


Heavenly Submission

by Irrevocably_Sherlocked



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel Wings, Frottage, M/M, Wing Bondage, Wing Kink, Wingfic, slight dom/sub undertones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 09:46:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19809745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irrevocably_Sherlocked/pseuds/Irrevocably_Sherlocked
Summary: “Ohh,” Crowley reaches up, skimming his hands lightly over Aziraphale’s wings, trailing his fingers over his feathers. He can feel it, the power held in check. If Aziraphale had a mind to it, he could crush him with those wings. Crowley thinks he might like him to try.





	Heavenly Submission

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! so my first wingfic! I totally want to blame, er thank, [MrsNoggin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsNoggin/pseuds/MrsNoggin) for this prompt. It went a bit different, but I hope you still like it!
> 
> Huge thanks to [Sussexbound](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamanthaLenore) and [geekoncaffeine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekoncaffeine/pseuds/geekoncaffeine) for a quick beta and a read over.

Crowley can sense the strength that lies hidden underneath Aziraphale’s unassuming frame. Smell it. Radiating sandalwood and musk, vanilla and heat, it’s all Crowley can do to not rise from the high-backed chair and extend his tongue. Just to taste. The heady scent has him shifting in his seat, his body rising to the promise heavy in the air. He sets his cup of tea on the table with a thud, absentmindedly starting to loosen the fastenings on his shirt.

“Stop, my dear. You know the rules,” Aziraphale calls. “I’m locking up. You can wait.”

Crowley growls, shifting with impatience. Damn him for a bastard, he thinks, but in truth… He loves it. The control.

Quietly, Aziraphale enters and slowly removes his clothing, shedding the garments with practiced ease. He could easily magic them away, but the seduction, the hint of what is to come makes something simmer and throb low in Crowley’s gut.

The temptation of angels, he thinks.

Gloriously naked, Aziraphale moves to him, leaning just close enough to brush his lips against Crowley’s. The tease is nearly painful, and Crowley _wants_. “Please” he whispers.

A smile, a spark, and a flash of white.

“Ohh,” Crowley reaches up, skimming his hands lightly over Aziraphale’s wings, trailing his fingers over his feathers. He can feel it, the power held in check. If Aziraphale had a mind to it, he could crush him with those wings. Crowley thinks he might like him to try.

His thoughts must have given him away, for Aziraphale is suddenly rising to his full height, his wings outstretched in a glorious display of shimmering white. Crowley shivers as his clothing disappears. Aziraphale straddles his hips, the chair graciously widening to accept their combined forms. Crowley tilts his head up, begging without words for a kiss.

Aziraphale lays claim to Crowley’s mouth, sweeping his tongue inside and brooking no resistance. It’s no chaste kiss, this. Teeth and tongues, hot and wet, and it’s all Crowley can do to hang on, his fingers pulling Aziraphale’s feathers.

Breaking away, Aziraphale uses his wings to pin Crowley’s wrists to the back of the chair. Crowley resists, feeling the answering force, the sheer strength Aziraphale deploys to push him down further.

“Angel,” Crowley groans.

“Settle. I’ll take care of you.”

Every atom in Crowley’s body yields to the command in that voice. He submits, and Aziraphale presses his advantage, kissing and nipping his way across Crowley’s jaw, his neck. Laving one taut nipple that he sucks to just this side of pain. Aziraphale presses down, aligning their cocks, and Crowley hisses, arching up to increase the friction. Aziraphale moans as he snaps his hips, recapturing Crowley’s mouth as their thrusts pick up speed, bodies entwining in sinuous pleasure. 

Aziraphale reaches between their bodies, drawing them both in hand, stroking them in time with their thrusts, his wings flapping a staccato beat against their entwined forms as he sets a rhythm that soon leaves them both shaking.

“Angel, I’m so close…please,” Crowley begs, and he’d be more upset about the whine in his voice if everything in him wasn’t screaming for release. For submission. For domination.

“Yes, my dear. For me. Now,” Aziraphale orders, releasing his own cock to grasp Crowley’s pulling, twisting. Crowley obeys, his release spilling white-hot between their bodies, as he cries Aziraphale’s name in ancient languages.

Aziraphale releases him finally, grasping his own cock, pulling hard and fast. His hands freed, Crowley grabs on to any part he can reach, hips, back, those magnificent wings as Aziraphale’s orgasm crashes over him, his come painting Crowley’s torso, his navel in rivulets of pearly white. Aziraphale whispers Crowley’s name, and dips his head to capture Crowley’s lips in a tender kiss.

Soon, he will miracle them clean, and pull him into bed for more, but for now, as Aziraphale wraps his wings around them both, pulling him close, Crowley knows that this is heaven. And he is more than willing to submit to it.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Heavenly Submission](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24827533) by [NostalgicPavements](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NostalgicPavements/pseuds/NostalgicPavements)




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